Running to meet me after school, he had much to tell. A field trip to the fire station filled him with stories that carried us from the parking lot all the way back home. The excitement seemed to build as we stepped inside. He had to show me how to stop, drop and roll. He spent the rest of the afternoon stopping, dropping and rolling. If there was a fire, he knew what to do.

This evening as I was busily putting dinner together, I listened to stories of their day, solved arguments, encouraged tired, frazzled emotions, and held my crying daughter. I had two wrapped around the bottom of my legs, and one with arms wrapped around my waist. Crazy filled my kitchen. Mom was needed by all...all at once. I knew I needed to put my full attention on them alone.

Remembering the techniques he taught me years ago, I stopped, dropped and rolled. Running to the nearest bed, I flopped down in the center. Within seconds, I had one son on my right, one on my left, my little daughter on my stomach, another sitting on the foot board, with my two oldest sitting nearby. It was a mom pile. There was a fire, and I knew what to do.